


Body Below

by actualite



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Genderswap, Gore, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualite/pseuds/actualite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixteen months into the so-called Zombie Apocalypse and Ian still couldn't get used to the stench.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Below

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the song by Mirah.

Sixteen months into the so-called Zombie Apocalypse and Ian still can't get used to the stench. It's everywhere, putrid and heavy, permeating everything. Sometimes, when they're way out in the sticks crossing a field or walking the winding road that leads over the mountains, he'll think he's finally free from it, breathing in clean, untainted air. And then he'll get a whiff of his clothes, which haven't been washed with soap in weeks. The smell is part of him now, burned into his olfactory nerve, and it will color everything he does for the rest of his life, however long that lasts.

*

Salty used to talk about wanting a pet chicken.

"I'd lead it around on a little string," he said. "And when it got tired of walking I could carry it under my arm."

Ian always scoffed at this plan, calling it ridiculous and impractical and essentially retarded. But secretly it made him emotional because he knew the idea came to Salty solely because of Ian's offhand gripe one morning when they were gnawing on some very stale energy bars they'd found in an abandoned convenience store. Ian was sick of eating that way and had told Salty that the thing he wanted most in the world was a breakfast burrito.

"Maybe it would lay an egg for us every day," Salty said. "Although, come to think of it, I think hens don't lay if they're stressed out."

There was no way a chicken wouldn't be stressed, living the way they did. Everyone was just barely holding on.

*

Sometimes Salty takes Ian's hand as they walk. Ian's hand always twitches a bit in Salty's grip when this happens, and he involuntarily looks back at Kyle and Kelly to see if they notice, his surprise and initial discomfort something he has to suppress, since two men holding hands, however much they both want it, would have always been something at which people looked at askance before the world changed.

Now there's no one to see but Kyle and Kelly. And when turning a corner or coming up on the crest of a hill could bring them upon a pile of rotting bodies, Ian feels no shame in admitting to himself that he is grateful for the warmth of Salty's palm, the grip of his long fingers, the feel of his strong pulse. He's alive, and Ian could never turn away any chance to be reminded of it.

*

Salty has a weakness for the little girls; he can't ever shoot them. He'd had three daughters before the epidemic. Ian knows their names because they're tattooed on Salty's arms in big cursive lettering. Sidney, Hunter, Sloane. Salty never talks about them, but Ian guesses that Sloane must've been the baby, because her name is the smallest, the letters curling prettily and discreetly around each other.

Ian wishes Salty could forget them, because Salty is useless when four little girls with sandy blond hair creep up on them. Their small bodies don't make the noise that the bigger bodies do, and the smell isn't as strong. Ian feels a small hand on his shoulder before he even realizes that he's in danger. He turns around and reaches for his knife, and it's not until he's slashed her head off cleanly that he notices Salty just staring, his face wrecked, as if he'd seen them coming and not done a thing about it.

With Kyle and Kelly's help Ian finishes off the other three, but Salty is quiet for a couple of days after.

He must still hold out hope that his daughters are alive. Ian can think of no other reason why he looks so carefully at the body of every little girl with blond curly hair.

Maybe, just maybe, Ian is jealous that the memory of those girls takes Salty to some place where Ian can never follow.

*

Kelly is nearly killed by one of them, a man who was a police officer and is still wearing his uniform, though it's tattered and spattered with blood. She runs hard, back toward where they'd camped, and Kyle hears her shouting. He picks up his rifle and shoots at the zombie, knocking it over, and Ian and Salty come running, but by the time they get there the danger has passed and Kelly is in Kyle's arms, trembling. They have to move camp that night, and when they finally try to get some sleep Ian has to block out the sound of Kyle and Kelly having sex, the sound of their desperate coupling making Ian's insides twist a little bit. They always do it after something especially scary happens, as if it's the only way they can assure each other that they're alive, that they survived.

Nearly three months later Kelly shamefully reveals that she thinks she's pregnant. Ian is furious, and Kyle looks furious too, but probably more because Kelly didn't think to tell him first in private.

"What the fuck are you doing having unprotected sex?" Ian shouts, seeing red.

"And where exactly are we supposed to find condoms?" Kyle retorts, embarrassed but defensive. "Or maybe you want Kelly to just phone up her gynecologist real quick and get a prescription for birth control! Let me just find my phone. Oh, wait."

"That, or you could not have sex at all," Ian says. "Jesus Christ, this isn't a soap opera. It's not even fucking _Survivor._ "

"Ian," Kelly says, looking a little incredulous, like she's wondering if he's really going to force her to call him out on his hypocrisy.

Ian's face flushes. He hasn't actually told anyone that sometimes he has _thoughts_ about Salty, but Kelly is very observant. The last thing he wants is for her to accuse Ian of wanting Salty to plow him, too.

"Well," Ian says defiantly, "there's other stuff you could've done that wouldn't result in--this. Why don't you put it in her ass next time you're hard?"

"You don't get to talk about her ass," Kyle says quellingly. "Not unless I get to talk about yours and what you want done with it."

"Look," Kelly says hastily. "I'm sorry this happened but...we're all in this together."

"Yeah," Ian says hatefully, thinking about what it's going to be like to try to get over the Rocky Mountains with a pregnant woman. "We all have to deal with the mess you two have made."

"Ian, I swear to God--" Kyle begins.

"A baby," Salty interrupts, and they all turn to him. "That's good. That's a good thing."

"I think so, too," Kelly says quietly. "I don't want us to disappear."

Privately Ian thinks it's abominable to bring a child into the world when things are the way they are.

There's nothing to do but go on, of course, and try to get to Seattle, where they've heard there's a boat that takes uninfected people to an island off the coast of Canada. They've built a stronghold there, and there are doctors, as well as weapons and food and electricity.

As the days pass Ian has to admit that Kelly does well, considering. She throws up neatly on the side of the road and then resumes walking, a light sheen of sweat on her slightly gray face, but firmly vetoes every one of Kyle's suggestions that they take a break, or go slower. Ian rolls his eyes when he sees the way Kyle tries to give Kelly his portions of food, and the way they sit by the fire at night, Kelly's head on Kyle's shoulder, the two of them trying to think of names for their baby and occasionally asking Ian and Salty for their opinions.

Salty smiles at them, no doubt remembering what it was like to expect his own kids. Ian doesn't know if he's just numb to it or if he's a terrible person for being glad that his own daughter hadn't lived to see the world turn into what it is, to be forced at such a young age to live with the kind of terror and tragedy that Ian witnesses nearly every day.

*

One day they pass a car with a family in it, and they all look dead, a man, a woman, and two teenaged children, all caked in blood but not too decomposed yet. They can see supplies inside, even some bottled water, so Salty reaches in. Ian sees the man's hand move and yells at Salty, who recoils quickly, but not before the man grabs hold of Salty's bicep, his grotesquely long nails digging into the skin. Kyle has his gun up in an instant and shoots the man cleanly through the forehead.

"You okay?" Ian says.

"Yeah," Salty says.

They move on and Ian forgets about it until that evening, when they realize Salty has disappeared. Ian pretends not to be as worried as he feels. Kelly paces and frequently peeks out through the curtains in the house they're squatting in that night. They discuss whether they should move on the next morning or wait for Salty to come back. Ian is deathly afraid that if Salty does return he will be one of them, his eyes clouded and sightless and his skin grey and blistered. Kyle says they should wait at least one more day. The incubation period is less than 24 hours.

Salty returns around mid-afternoon, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Sorry, guys," he says. "I just went out to try to find some supplies. Then it got dark and I didn't want to risk it. Fell asleep for too long, I guess."

Ian's worry turns immediately to anger. "So--you were taking a nap? We almost went out looking for you! After dark! You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

Salty accepts this meekly and hands Kelly a very small pair of scissors.

"Found those on the ground. Thought you might want to have 'em. I heard you saying you needed some the other day."

"Oh! Thanks," Kelly says, surprised and pleased. She adds it to her small collection of utensils that she carries in her pack.

As for Salty, he looks unharmed. He has a new shirt on. There are sleeves on this one. Before he'd worn tank tops or shirts with the sleeves cut off--too hot otherwise, he said.

"Don't be mad at me," he says to Ian now, his eyes pleading just as much as his voice.

Ian forgives him, because feeling wronged by Salty does nothing to lessen the pain of loving him.

*

It isn't until after Kyle and Kelly are dead that Salty kisses Ian for the very first time. When it happens Ian finally understands why Kyle and Kelly couldn't deny themselves. Feeling Salty's arms around him feels like being held in the arms of God. Better, Ian thinks, because Salty will never abandon him willingly the way God so obviously has.

There is still something worth living for.

*

Ian had been driving down the empty interstate trying to get away from the city as fast as he could when he first found Salty. Salty was walking all by himself in the middle of the road, wearing nothing but a dirty hospital gown. Ian squinted at him, trying to decipher whether or not he was truly alive.

Ian was going to drive past him, but then Salty turned and raised his hand to wave at Ian. Ian couldn't help it, then; he had to pull over.

Salty said he'd woken up from a coma in an eerily silent hospital, disoriented and dehydrated. Ian handed Salty a bottle of water and drove, knowing he couldn't leave Salty behind now, despite knowing nothing about him.

The epidemic had turned them all into scavengers, Ian likes to remind Salty, with mock derision. Everyone left alive picked up random shit they found on the road.

"You're lucky you found me," Salty always says in return, smiling confidently. Ian wishes he had had the words to tell Salty that he's right.

*

Ian's tired, so tired, and they're still somewhere in the vicinity of Utah. He stumbles against Salty and is surprised when Salty hisses and jerks away involuntarily.

He puts his hand up to his shoulder for a moment and then lowers it.

"What's wrong?" Ian says.

Salty avoids his eyes. "Nothing," he says, continuing to walk, though Ian has stopped in his tracks.

"I heard you make a sound. Are you hurt?" Ian says sharply.

"No," Salty says.

"I know you're lying," Ian says, getting angry, or maybe panicking, he doesn't know which.

Salty won't answer, not looking at Ian, so Ian comes forward quickly, reaching for the hem of Salty's shirt.

"Ian, no--"

"Fuck no, you need to show me--"

Ian has never fought Salty, never felt how strong he is, but he feels it now, Salty's big hands gripping Ian's forearms. There's something hard in him, suddenly, and it surprises Ian.

"Let it go," Salty says harshly.

Ian does, shrugging Salty off and turning away. He's afraid, but of what, he can't tell. Maybe the fact that Salty is hiding something from him. Or maybe of Salty himself. He realizes, maybe for the first time, how alone they really are.

*

They'd known they were in dangerous territory the day Kyle died. They'd talked about it and decided together that it was worth the risk to go through the city instead of trying to go around it. Everything had been eerily quiet until they turned a corner and came upon a horde of them, still and silent in the absence of anything living. They immediately began to stir when they sensed movement before them.

This horde was fast, faster than some of the others, hungry and more cunning. The chase was grueling but they got away, and it wasn't until they were safely outside the city limits, alone, that Kyle realized he had a gash in his side, blood evident.

Kelly reached over to touch it but Kyle wouldn't let her.

"Maybe--maybe you just scraped against some concrete," Ian said, but Kyle looked over at him witheringly, as if he found Ian's faint hope condescending.

He wouldn't let Kelly near him at first, but by the middle of the night he began showing signs of brain degeneration. He'd known it was coming and had reminded Salty of his promise to shoot him when he became a danger to them, though Kelly refused to believe it would come to that. Once Kyle became delirious she broke her promise to him to stay a safe distance away, holding his head in her lap as he suffered the agonizing eruption of horrific symptoms. Kyle got worse and worse, the galloping infection transforming him from the man they all knew to something unrecognizable before their eyes. Kelly cried silently as she held Kyle, who convulsed from the raging fever, his skin hot and his mouth beginning to froth. When his eyes clouded Ian and Salty both knew time was running out, but Kelly wouldn't let go. Finally, when they saw blood seeping from Kyle's eyes and ears, they pried him out of Kelly's arms. Salty shot him, and Kyle's body jerked once and then went still.

Kelly stood up then from where she'd been sitting on the ground, covered in Kyle's blood and vomit. She took the gun from Salty, put the muzzle under her chin and pulled the trigger, just like that. In two seconds she and the baby she'd been carrying were dead too, and Salty and Ian were alone.

*

"If you'd met me before," Ian says one day as they're walking, "would we still be together?"

"Nah," Salty says immediately, grinning at Ian. "First thing when we get to that island I'm gonna find me a nice girl to put my dick in."

"I'll remember that next time you roll over in the night and want to fuck," Ian says, nettled.

"Aw, I'm just kidding, babe. I know you're the only one in the world who'd put up with how bad I smell."

"Well I'm not talking about now. I'm talking about before, when we all used soap and deodorant regularly." Ian pauses. "Back when you were married and had kids."

Salty's quiet, and Ian regrets bringing it up, hating that he can't be satisfied knowing that Salty loves him now. He has to know that Salty would have loved him anywhere, any time, in any circumstances, and not just because they're both so goddamn lonely and scared all the time.

Ian hadn't even acknowledged to himself that he was gay before all this, just that he felt trapped and unsatisfied in his marriage and guilty about lying to his wife about how much he loved her.

"Let me tell you," Salty says finally, "about this dream I had a few weeks ago. You and me was at a ball game, sitting up on the upper deck where my dad used to take me. We watched the game and drank a few beers, and the Braves won. There were thousands and thousands of people there, and they was all cheering and laughing and having a good time."

Ian saves this false memory, even knowing he can't get caught in the trap of what could have been.

*

Ian can tell there's still something wrong with Salty's shoulder. He's careful never to let Ian see it. They never take their clothes all the way off, anyway, in case they have to run, so Ian doesn't have many opportunities to try. But one night when Ian is coming back from gathering some kindling he sees Salty with his sleeve pushed up.

Salty is staring at his shoulder, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a deep frown, maybe from craning his neck back to be able to look at it. There's a dirty piece of white cloth wrapped around his upper arm with two pieces of twine, and the cloth is soaked through. Salty unties the twine and peels the piece of fabric away gingerly.

And there it is, a little hard to make out in the dim light of dusk, but unmistakable: four parallel welts. It's seeping liquid, yellow and viscous, and the skin around the welts is red, puckered and inflamed.

Ian can't move. He watches, still as a statue, as Salty tears another strip of cloth from an old shirt he took from his pack. He puts the strip of cloth back over the wound and awkwardly ties the twine to hold it in place. Then he pulls down his sleeve and raises his head, peering out into the gathering darkness, no doubt wondering what's taking Ian so long.

Ian remembers, now, when they came upon that car with the dead family inside and the man who had turned out not to be dead after all. He remembers the man's claw-like grip when he lunged at Salty, and he remembers Salty disappearing for a day afterward.

The disease has many symptoms, all of them a result of the complete inability of the human immune system to fight it off. Before the epidemic swept the nation Ian remembers watching reports about the disease on the news. The infectivity rate for it is 100%, and there had been no documented cases of immunity or survival.

Maybe they were wrong, Ian thinks. Things went so fast. They had no time to study it, and it swept across the world before anyone had a chance to understand it.

The fact that Salty's wound won't heal is confirmation enough that he has been infected. But somehow he's fighting it off, carrying it inside him. He's kissed Ian, done even more intimate things with him, and yet Ian is still healthy.

Ian wonders if it's only a matter of time before it takes Salty, or if it has already taken Salty and he's been in love with a zombie all this time without knowing it.

*

It was many months after Ian first found Salty that Salty finally told Ian what had happened to him the day he woke up alone in the hospital.

He'd made his way to his home, disoriented and scared, and saw his wife sitting at the kitchen table in their dining room, her head bowed, his daughters nowhere to be seen. Relieved, he'd started toward her, calling her name, and reached out to touch her shoulder. Suddenly, in one unnatural, jerky movement, she stood up and turned, and Salty had jumped back, horrified. Her hair was matted and dirty, her skin a pasty grey and covered in sores, and worst of all her eyes clouded and yellow, unrecognizable. Part of her face had fallen away and the wound gaped, the flesh moving strangely, due, Salty realized in horror, to the tiny worms crawling in it.

She stared at him unseeingly for a moment, then darted forward, snapping at him, and Salty was barely able to get out of the way in time. She came after him, snarling, and it wasn't until that moment that the reality of the situation was borne on him. He had to fight her off with a chair, finally swinging it at her hard enough that her head came off of her body, which was already well on its way toward decay. He left her there, stumbling out of the house. He told Ian he had no memory of how he got from his house to the place where Ian had found him.

*

"What are you thinking about?" Salty had said one day when they were hiking through the forest in Colorado, Kyle and Kelly walking behind them. It was a warm day, the sun shining brightly, dappling through the branches and everything quiet but for the murmur of Kyle and Kelly's conversation a few yards away.

"I'm thinking it feels like we just decided to go on a hiking trip," Ian said. "Like none of the rest of it is real except this part, where it's a great day and the sun is shining. And later when we're tired we can get back in the truck and drive home. And we can eat a normal dinner and watch TV and then go to sleep in a real bed with real sheets. Clean sheets."

Salty took Ian's hand and held it. "This is real," he said simply.

Ian thinks back to that day often. He always thought before that Salty didn't understand what Ian was trying to say.

*

Ian wakes up. Summer is over and there's a chill in the air. He looks over to where Salty has been sitting, keeping watch until Ian wakes.

The sun is rising, the slanted rays just beginning to light everything up around them. Salty is sitting very still, his arms folded, elbows resting on his knees. He's staring straight ahead, unblinking, and Ian suddenly has the notion that Salty's eyes look strange, dull and dim, as if they're beginning to cloud like the other zombies.

Ian feels the back of his neck prickle again. He shivers, a combination of cold and sudden fear.

Immediately sensing Ian's movement, Salty blinks and turns his head. He looks at Ian and everything in Ian freezes, suspended for an eternal moment.

Then Salty smiles, and the dead look in his eyes vanishes, replaced by their familiar warmth. Ian tells himself that what he saw in Salty's eyes was just a trick of the light.

There's no reason to stop hoping now. Not even here, standing with the tips of their boots peeking out over the end of the world.


End file.
